


The Intersection of Platonic and Deeply in Love

by poppyfields



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Canon Compliant, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Canon, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28912617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyfields/pseuds/poppyfields
Summary: While attending, high schoolers have a tendency to view themselves as at the center of the world. This naturally leads them to believe those three years are equivalent to a lifespan. I, too, fell victim to this way of thinking, for a period. I wasn’t conscious of it, I would have enough sense to stop myself if I were, but in the back of my mind it was always there.The idea that my friends of the time, the people I surrounded myself with, would be in my life forever. Now it has been years since I’ve seen Morinozuka, or even Haninozuka. I saw Haruhi, by chance about six months ago, out shopping. I see Hikaru, often, I suppose, more often than I’d like. Tamaki… I don’t really see him, any more.The only one I’ve really stayed close to, in any sense, is the second Hitachiin, Kaoru.
Relationships: Hitachiin Kaoru/Ootori Kyouya
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	The Intersection of Platonic and Deeply in Love

While attending, high schoolers have a tendency to view themselves as at the center of the world. This naturally leads them to believe those three years are equivalent to a lifespan. I, too, fell victim to this way of thinking, for a period. I wasn’t conscious of it, I would have enough sense to stop myself if I were, but in the back of my mind it was always there. 

The idea that who I was then decided who I was for life. The idea that the one I loved then, the one who I had never even kissed, was my soulmate, the one I would love for life. The idea that my friends of the time, the people I surrounded myself with, would be in my life forever. Now it has been years since I’ve seen Morinozuka, or even Haninozuka. I saw Haruhi, by chance about six months ago, out shopping. I see Hikaru, often, I suppose, more often than I’d like. Tamaki… I don’t really see him, any more. 

The only one I’ve really stayed close to, in any sense, is the second Hitachiin, Kaoru. I can’t really say why, there wasn’t all that much tying us. We were in different years, with different hobbies, and detached personalities. I don’t even think I looked at him much in his first year with the host club. I honestly couldn’t tell you which one looked at more, him or his brother. They were practically one in my mind. One nuisance.

But there was once, near the end of his first year in highschool, near the time I bought the company, when he looked at me. When I could see something in his eyes. Something I knew his brother didn’t possess. Understanding.

It was a nice feeling, to be understood, and from then on, whenever I locked eyes with Kaoru, I could feel it again. From then on, he was the one my eyes sought, when someone said something I thought deserved attention. We would smile, silently, then continue on our day. 

I guess it was something about that simple, confident relationship that made it a little more durable. Something in it that made it last, even outside the metaphorical vacuum of space that was Ouran Academy. 

In any case we still meet. We sit in cafes and drink coffee, we tell stories of the past, or our lives at the present, we’re always catching up, not ever quite caught up, but close. He knows where my apartment is, few do, and I wouldn’t not be outwardly surprised to see him showing up unannounced on a Friday night, a _just above the bottom of the line_ bottle of sake in his hand.

Sometimes he’s over after work, and I’m tired, and we’re watching a movie, and his head falls onto my lap, and I wonder for a second if _he sees me as a man_ as the line might be in some overly dramatic romance Tamaki might have delivered a monologue from in high school. I know he’s gay, we go to clubs together. He knows I’m gay, he watched me get over my first love.

In any case, we’re purely platonic. As of late, I’m not one to get those lines crossed. I have once had sex with his brother, a long time ago. A whole-hearted mistake, after one too many cocktails and a recent breakup leaving me with no one to text. I thought of Kaoru the whole time, even though I suspect they act nothing alike. Except maybe, I might guess, near the end. Maybe in the way they bite their lip, and pinch closed their eyes.

* * *

“Who was that?” the preferable twin asks me, as I shrug off my coat onto the same chair I am lowering myself into.

He’s referencing the man with the umbrella. The one who’s just kissed me goodbye outside the cafe where I am now meeting Kaoru. My boyfriend.

“My boyfriend.” I inform him, though I suspect that was his first guess anyway.

“Ah, new one?” He asks, dropping his head forward onto his hands, elbows braced on the table.

I smirk, wondering if he’s being rhetorical, he sees the question in my eyes, but his eyes don’t answer. The last one was nearly two years ago.

“Yes, it’s a new one,” I humour him, letting my eyes drop to the table as a waitress places two large lattes down, the foam art is of some cartoon character I might recognize from somewhere, “His name’s Yamamoto, he works in my company.”

Hikaru grins, raising his latte towards his lips, “Up or down?” 

He brings the mug to his lips as he finishes the question, but quickly raises a finger with his free hand, asking me to delay my response. 

When he finishes the coffee he continues his response, “I’m sorry, what am I saying, Kyoya Ootori always dates down.”

I make a sound, something between a scoff and a laugh. Kaoru often elicits this sound.

“He works under my father.”

Kaoru smiles at this, as if to say he is content with the answer, as if to say I couldn’t have proved his point any more if I tried. I feel the distinct sensation of having wandered into a trap. 

“So, how seriously should I take remembering this one’s name? How much longer is he going to be sticking around?”

“I don’t know,” A pause for a second, to be frank, I am pretty certain it will last somewhere between four and six months. I’m not going to say that to Kaoru though. Strategically it makes no sense, it gives away my power. I raise my eyebrow in a silent challenge, “Could be forever. This one’s got a car, and knows how to file his tax returns, he might be ready to make an offer.”

I know it’s not convincing. My use of _”this one”_ likely hindering my message of eternal love, but Kaoru knows the game we’re playing, and he’s willing to play, too.

“Ah now what would I do, sitting in the pews, watching another take your hand.”

Ok, so maybe I am not quite as good as I want to be at keeping my platonic and romantic relationships separate. Maybe I’m ok with the lines being blurred a little. Maybe it feels sort of nostalgic, now, after everything.

I lean forward, ignoring Kaoru’s exaggerated confession of love, as we always do, “Pews? You picture me getting married in a church? I hope you will do the work finding one that will let me in.”

Kaoru hisses a laugh, “Don’t worry Kyoya, we’ll get them to put away all the crosses for you.”

This is how many of our conversations pass. At the point in which the venn diagram for outwardly mean, insanely flirtatious and completely platonic intersect. Some would say that diagram does not intersect. I would be willing to entertain debate.

As we walk out of the cafe, an hour later, Kaoru smirks, “So when should I receive my RSVP?”  
We’ve cycled through so many conversations over the course of the hour, I’m not immediately sure what he’s referencing.

“Oh,” I announce, as I remember, “Yamamoto, my wedding, yes. We’ll see if he’s in a hurry, could be in just a couple months, I suppose.”

Kaoru doesn’t laugh, but his smile, and the way he sort of glares at me, indicate basically the same thing. We both know the idea is ridiculous.

“Well, I’ll work on finding myself a plus one.”

“Ooh, yes, it’s embarrassing to show up to the love of your life’s wedding with no date.”

Kaoru snorts, as he should. I’m proud of myself for that one.

“You’re right, we can’t run away together if I don’t have someone to run away from, too.”

We both have spent too much of our formative years around, _prince of horrible, sappy, romance_ Tamaki Suoh. We both have too much leftover host training, that’s not going to use with our actual lovers because it attracts only the kind of clingy people we both hate.

“Ah, that movie, by that Korean director you like,” I say as I suddenly remember, “that independent…” I twirl my fingers a little for a second trying to summon the correct string of words, “whatever.”

Kaoru laughs, “And I thought you were supposed to be the cultured one,” he let’s the taunt sit for a second before he continues, “The word’s film. It’s about a girl who moves to the city and starts to develop anxiety, I’m pretty sure. The acting’s supposed to be amazing. What about it?”

“The company got a couple tickets to the festival where it premieres,” I explain, “We should go together.”

Kaoru eyes me for a second, shoving his hands in his pockets against the cold of the city outside. The rain has let up, but just barely, and I’m not certain when it will come down again. My boyfriend has the umbrella, and Kaoru always forgets his.

“That sounds like a date, Kyoya,” his tone his light-hearted, but he finds a way to keep some of the edge of the original words, “Shouldn’t you be taking Yakamato?”

“Yamamoto,” I correct, calmly, though I know he’s choosing not to remember, I don’t think Yakamato is even a name, “And, no. We’re not dating publicly, yet, my father will not be pleased with the relationship.”

Kaoru shakes his head, at the predictability of my dating pattern, I assume. At the way I act like my father’s disapproval is an unforeseen problem, and not the exact motivation for all my relationships. Kaoru always teases me for that.

“Plus,” I attach to the end, pressing passed the topic of my own, long-standing baggage, “He doesn’t appreciate those mo-” I pause at the look in his eyes, “ _films_ , the way you do.”

He smiles, I’m not sure if he has accepted my explanation, or if he has just decided to take the risk. Either way I don’t need to hear his next words to know what he’s saying.

“Ok, I’m excited.”

* * *

My lip twists into a sort of frown as I inspect myself in the mirror, fingers running through the tightly woven cotton of my suit. Is it appropriate for a film festival? Are these things black tie? I normally don’t go, instead choosing to pawn off the tickets onto some mid-level team director who probably deserves a raise, but can be persuaded not to push for one with a little favour like this.

The only reason I kept the tickets this time was that name, Lee Soo-Hyeon. I couldn’t not notice it, after seeing it on every dvd case Kaoru had brought to my house in the past year, since he first started following her. She’s the reason I still have a dvd player, because of course these indie _films_ can’t be found anywhere online.

I sigh, finding myself growing resentful of something that truly doesn’t matter, not for the first time. Not for the first time today. Bad habit.

The intercom buzzer goes off. I haven’t had a butler since I moved out of my parents house, but people come over so infrequently I still find myself inconvenienced by the fact that I have to answer the door myself.

“Good evening, Kaoru.”

“Do you really have that few friends?” Kaoru’s voice is tauntingly raised, “You knew it was me that quickly.”

I’m silent for a moment, considering whether I should humour him with banter, over my intercom, with no idea who is standing in the lobby behind him.

“Come up,” I tell him instead, pressing the button to allow him to do so.

I take another glance in the mirror, I look good, don’t I? Will Kaoru think so, too?

My question is immediately answered when he walks through the door, his eyes quickly scanning over me with a low whistle of appreciation. By the time he’s properly inside my apartment, his hands are on my lapels, drawing his fingers down them exactly like I did a couple minutes before.

“Damn, Kyoya, you’re making me look bad.”

I laugh, looking down at him with consideration. It’s definitely not true. I don’t think anyone could make him look bad the way he’s dressed tonight. His suit is grey, and more casual than mine. Under the jacket is a black shirt, with no tie and the top two buttons left undone. His hair is slicked back, something he’s gotten a lot better since high school, when he would just comb gel through it until it was plastered to his head.

He looks good. 

Kaoru’s hands are still drifting over my jacket when his head flicks up to my face, “Is this Italian?”

Again I laugh, “No, French.”

Kaoru hums as he inspects the sleeves, and when he drops them our eyes meet. There’s a beat. A beat that feels familiar, between me and Kaoru. A beat where we forget exactly where on the friends/lovers scale we sit. A beat where we forget why we settled on that exact spot.

It passes as quickly as it always does, and Kaoru’s normal smile returns. 

“You excited for some overly pretentious short films in languages you don’t understand?”

I groan, “I thought you liked these things.”

“I do, well, I like the good ones, ” he winks playfully, “The bad ones are still really bad.”

I roll my eyes, grabbing my keys off the kitchen counter, “Would people notice if we left after the Lee Soo-Hyeon one?”

Kaoru clicks his tongue, following me out into the hallway, “With you dressed as well as you are right now? Yeah, I think you might draw some eyes.”

* * *

We’re photographed a couple times getting out of my black Maybach, but the photos will likely go nowhere. The tabloid would have to be desperate to pay for pictures of me and Kaoru going to an independent film festival. It’s not like I haven’t been seen out with him before, the rumours surrounding our relationship have been old news since we were in college.

The festival is... fun. More so than I expected. More so than the last one I went to. I still find it frivolous. I know it’s nothing more than a way to peddle off poorly funded movies to wealthy people as if they are some sort of high art, purely for the fact that they are poorly funded. It doesn’t mean the movies aren’t good, though. Of course, it doesn’t mean they all are, either.

I suppose a good deal of my entertainment over the night comes from the man beside me. From Kaoru’s expression when a film takes an unpredictable turn, his expression when the twists are entirely predictable. From the little comments he hisses in my ear when the audio is loud enough the viewers around us won’t complain. From the deep, yet light-hearted discussions we have over the smooth, _artistically crafted_ cocktails they offer between shows. 

He comments almost as frequently on the attire or behaviour of the other attendees as he does the quality of the actual films. I enjoy these comments too. Kaoru has a tongue as sharp as a knife, and that’s always been something we had in common.

“Well?” Kaoru asks me, as we wait for the valet. 

“Well?” I repeat back to him, for clarification.

“Well, the festival,” he explains, gesturing behind him to the building they just emerged from, “Did you like it?”

“I did,” I admit to him, not looking back at him for fear he will seem too conceited, too smug, “Though, I think I enjoyed the company more.”

Kaoru drops his jaw with an exaggerated sound. I don’t even know how to describe the sound he makes when he drops his jaw. I’m fairly certain the actual action doesn’t cause a sound, but Kaoru has made this sound since we were teenagers, to the point that I know what it means even over the phone.

“Kyoya you shameless flirt,” he scolds.

The valet pulls in with my car, and I walk around to the driver’s side as Kaoru keeps talking.

“You weren’t missing your _boyfriend_ the whole time?” He lowers himself into his seat the same time I do, closing the door without looking away from me, “What was his name again? Yokomina?”

“It’s not a hard name, Kaoru,” I chide, giving him a quick glare before I turn my eyes on the road, “And no, I wasn’t missing Yamamoto. I was glad to be there with you.”

Kaoru makes a satisfied little huff of air as he settles comfortably into his seat. _His seat_ feels like the correct term, I can’t remember the last time someone else sat there. 

“You know Kyoya, if you’re just dating him to make me jealous you can stop. You know I’ll always love you, we don’t have to play these games.”

I scoff, “I’m not dating him for _your_ attention, Kaoru. I’m dating him for my father’s attention. I thought you’d know me better than that.”

Kaoru laughs, “You’re right, I should have known that.”

We’re silent for a moment, and I’m not entirely sure why. I don’t want to make guesses, that’s when things get bad.

“You won’t actually marry him though, will you?”

It draws my eyes from the road, which is not something that normally happens. Kaoru’s looking straight out the window, expression much more serious than I expected. Like it gets when he talks about his brother, or when he starts making those strange, profound statements about life, or time.

“No,” I answer cautiously, my gaze already back out the window, though I now have a good picture of how Kaoru looks, “No, I don’t think I will.”

Kaoru takes a long, steady breath.

“I really should start getting over you, shouldn’t I?”

My heart pounds in a way it normally doesn’t when we joke about these sorts of things, though this doesn’t exactly feel like a joke. I hold my tongue. I have nothing to say because honestly, I want to say no. I want to tell him not to get over me, but I can’t, I shouldn’t, not when I can’t honestly say I would know what to do with his feelings. Not when I’m not ready to address my own.

So I stay silent, we both do, for a long while.

“Should I drop you at yours?”

Kaoru takes a second to respond, likely coming back to himself from whatever deep sea of thoughts he had no doubt been wading through.

“Oh, yes, thank you Kyoya.”

“Of course,” I mumble, not sure exactly how to return to our normal rhythm of conversation.

“You want to come in for a bit? I’m sure Hikaru would love to see you.”

I laugh, letting it distract me a little from the earlier awkwardness “I’m not sure where you get that idea.”

“Oh come on,” he urges, starting to sound a little more like himself, “I know you two love each other, even if you don’t say it.”

“You’re projecting,” I tell him, “Hikaru and I are acquaintances at best.”

“Fine, don’t come over then,” Kaoru bristles, exaggerating his offense, “Go home and call your boyfriend, see if I care.”

My eyes drift over to him, though I don’t turn my head. Are we already back to these jokes? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, these kinds of moments, where we’re almost honest, where we almost address the things we breeze by every day, where we almost say something, do something, real… they never really last. 

They pop up like targets in an arcade shooting game, taunting me, and when I don’t take advantage, when I let them get away, they disappear, like they were never there. I always regret my decision afterwards, but I do the same thing every time. I always rely on the assumption that Kaoru will set up another target, that I’ll get another chance. I always pretend I’ll do something different next time.

* * *

The relationship with Yamamoto doesn’t even last the four months I first afforded it. He irritates me quickly, making the mistake men often seem to make that my submission during sex means they can have any form of control over me outside of that. The final straw was when he told me it was _irresponsible_ of me to book a business trip without consulting him first. It’s a bit of a shame though, the relationship made my father tremendously angry.

“Ah, and I was just starting to remember his name,” Kaoru teases me as I pour our gin and tonics.

“You were?” I step back towards the couch, handing him his glass, “What was it, do you mind me asking?”

Kaoru looks at me defiantly for a second, as if he truly thinks he might remember it.

“Yamaguchi.”

“No.”

I smile as I settle into the seat beside him. I’m glad Kaoru never learnt the name. I’m glad to see the little sparkle in his eyes. I selfishly hope it means he failed his mission to get over me. I selfishly hope it means I’ll get another chance. 

“And you?” I ask, knowing it may come across flirtatious, though that isn’t really a concern when speaking to Kaoru, “I can’t remember the last time you had a boyfriend.”

Kaoru laughs, “Oh, come on, I’m sure you can. He showed up at your house the day we broke up.”

“Oh, Takemura? That was your last boyfriend?”

I remember Takemura. Of course I remember Takemura. He was Kaoru’s college boyfriend, though he lasted long past college, three years past college, and then he showed up at my door, in the middle of the night, with some idea that I was the reason they’d broken up. I’d never much liked him, to be honest. 

“But that was years ago.”

“I know, I know, sorry my father doesn’t have a million assistants I can date.”

“Oh, Kaoru, don’t blame your father for your own mistakes,” I scold, sounding very much like my mother. 

“You’re right,” Kaoru mused, raising his glass up to his mouth, “I guess I’ve really just been waiting for you.”

I smile, watching him slowly sip his drink, I know he’s timed it so I’ll have to respond, and I wish I didn’t have to give in, but it seems he’ll make the sip last as long as he needs.

“Well then I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” I tell him, raising my drink to my lips as well.

He draws his gaze into a frown, which I take to mean my response succeeded in backing him into a corner. It means I’m pulled a safe peg in the flirtation jenga game we’re playing. It means it’s his turn next.

“Hmm,” Kaoru leans back on my sofa, as if exaggerating his position of confidence, as if to intimidate me, “You’d do well to act on that apology.”

I raise my eyebrow, the tone of it is vaguely sexual, a rarely used and, frankly, _cheap_ move in these kinds of dances. It’s effective, though. How could it not be? How could this metaphorical jenga tower we're stacking not sway, with Kaoru looking at me innocently across the couch like that. 

I want him, it’s not complicated. He knows it just as well as I do.

“Tut, tut, Kaoru,” I turn my gaze away, admitting my surrender, “One of your nannies must have taught you about patience.”

Kaoru’s glaze flickers over me, disappointment and excitement mingling in his expression.

“Ah, no one’s ever taught me patience quite like you, Kyoya.”

I can feel the smirk physically tug at the sides of my mouth. I feel simultaneously proud of my play and ridiculously worried at the still trembling state of that tower we’ve just taken a time out from.

“So,” Kaoru whistles slowly, after a couple breaths of silence, “Where should we go out to dinner?” he looks over with this completely innocent face, like we’ve been having just the friendliest of chats, “Or, do you want to order in?”

I take a slow sip to cover my smile.

“I have a place in mind.”

* * *

I don’t see Kaoru for a couple months after that night. Partly because with the state we left our fragile semblance of a platonic relationship in, the first person to text was at risk of crushing it. Partly because I’m busy for work, and Kaoru is too, and social things, and the many parts of our lives that don’t involve each other now. It’s not always easy to meet with someone you have nothing in common with except an alma mater. 

We text a bit, though there is not much we can say. Conversations are normally 3-5 messages; _question-answer-thanks_ , or _set up-acknowledgement-punchline-some sarcastic comment about the sender’s(Kaoru’s) sense of humour-disregard for sarcastic tone_.

When we see each other again, Kaoru’s hair has grown a little shaggy. Cute. It reminds me of when we were in highschool. I still berate him for it, ruffling my hand through it condescendingly, but I suppose I wouldn’t be mad if he were able to keep it. It feels good between my fingers.

“Ah, good to see you too, Kyoya,” he glared at me from the bowed position my hand seemed to be forcing him into.

I laugh, letting his head bounce back up straight, his hair doing the same. 

“I’m sorry, I was acting a bit like Suoh, wasn’t I?”

Kaoru snickers, “Oh, don’t worry Kyoya, I would stop hanging out with you way before you got that bad.”

“You never really liked him, did you?” I smirk, wondering what that would feel like, to have known Tamaki and not loved him.

“Ha, not the way you did,” Kaoru teases, reading my mind, “But no, if it wasn’t for Hikaru, and Haruhi, and you, I guess, later, I never would have been a host.”

I raise my eyebrows, feeling a little bitter that my credit came with an “I guess”. If I was in the mood to play our usual game I would tell him how much better I think life would have been if I had been the same. If I had been _not_ hopelessly in love with Tamaki. I definitely would have earned myself something more than an “I guess”.

I’m not in the mood to start that, though. It’s been months since I’ve seen him and we just started the afternoon and we need to talk about more than just thinly veiled flirts and confessions of love. I turn and begin walking around the park, what we met up to do.

“Your work?” I ask, aware how obvious my attempt at topic change was. It was still effective, though, “Last time we talked there was… that new intern, right?”

“Ah,” he chewed his lip a little, “That intern’s gone.”

I raise an eyebrow again.

“I took a trick out of the, _Kyoya Ootori; Horny at Work_ book and slept my way down. He sort of fell for me, I think,” I hum in agreement, as if I knew the feeling, he ignores me, though I know he heard, “Ended up transferring departments, I think.”

“Ah yes, that’s why you start outside your department. I learned that after Shiba-kun, my assistant.”

“Oh, Kyoya, we both know you’ve fucked more than one of your assistants.”

“That’s true,” I pause for a second, “I didn’t learn it the first two times though.”

Kaoru laughs, “Well I think just the once was enough to teach me, that was not worth it.”

“Ah yes, well maybe that’s because your emotional distance makes you seek out people that don’t care about you and mine makes me seek people who will always love me more than I’ll love them.”

He’s silent for a second, before he laughs, “You’re seriously scary, Kyoya. No wonder Hikaru’s so afraid of you.”

I make the sound Kaoru’s taught me to associate with a jaw drop, “And you were saying how much he loves me. He’s afraid of me?”

Kaoru chuckles, “Do you really not see how he could be? Isn’t that more or less what you were going for?”

I shove him over with my shoulder, causing him to stumble to the edge of the path. He laughs looking up at me, offended, as if I’ve betrayed our entire friendship.

As he rejoins me I take a second to consider what we would look like to an outside observer. Our hands are stuffed into our respective jackets’ pockets, as we stroll down the path, practically huddled together against the Autumn wind. We look like a couple, I can already tell you.

“You? Any new playthings at your company?” Kaoru grins.

“You make me sound so insufferably sleazy.”

“Ah, you’re rich and hot, you’re allowed to be sleazy.”

“You only say that because you’re as rich, hot and sleazy as I am.”

“What a pair we make,” Kaoru agrees, ducking into his scarf to hide his smile. I don’t know when smiles became a sign of weakness between us, but I would be happy to see that idea die. I would be happy to be able to see Kaoru’s big bright smile like I used to.

“Yes,” I adjust my glasses, looking out on the fountain in the center of the park, it has been turned off, it must be dipping below zero overnight, “I’m glad I have you to understand me.”

His mouth is still covered by his scarf as he joins me in considering the fountain, and I’m not sure exactly what it’s doing, but in his eyes his smile falters a little. I think I know what it means. I think I’ve felt it before. It’s the impatience for this stupid game we play. It’s the desire to just get it over with already. It’s the frustration about that stupid friends/lovers scale and the completely meaningless position we’ve chosen on it.

I’ve definitely felt that before, and it makes my heart ache for Kaoru to watch him look like that. If the positions were switched, this would probably be the time Kaoru threw up another target for me. If the positions were switched, I would probably miss the target again. I would really appreciate the opportunity though. Kaoru might, too.

“You know, I’ve always thought you understand me better than anyone else, Kaoru,” I start. I’m not good at this, it’s Kaoru’s specialty, but I think I owe him a little vulnerability too, “I’ve… That’s always meant a lot to me.”

Kaoru looks up at me, eyes a little wide, but almost in an adoration sort of way. Normally I watch him like this until he falls silent. Is this what we’re doing now? For some reason I don’t feel like being silent though.

“I-” I take a deep breath, the exhale coming out like a sigh, “I really care about you Kaoru.”

I don’t know what it is, but it feels good, it feels raw, it feels real, it feels _so damn good_.

“I have,” I break eye contact for a second, letting it recharge me, “I have problems trusting people… sometimes,” I look back to him, “You know that, of course you do.”

A small smile is starting to twitch up on his face, and my heart is beginning to race. Like I’m falling in love for the very first time.

“But I really like you Kaoru,” my voice has a serious tone I’m not even sure I’ve heard before, serious and yet, it still sounds like me. It makes me feel confident, I take a step closer to Kaoru, “I really, really like you.”

His smile curls up into a closed mouth grin and it’s his turn to look away from me this time.

“If you really liked me, you’d kiss me,” he mumbles, trying to sound frustrated, but coming off giddy all the same. His broad smile never leaves his face.

“Kaoru,” the name feels like soft velvet rolling off my tongue, I touch his jaw lightly, prompting him to turn his face towards me. I know I’m smiling, just as widely as he is, because it’s starting to make my cheeks ache, “You shameless flirt.”

When our lips touch, my immediate thought is a question as to why we took so long to get here. Why we weren’t doing this years earlier. I don’t have to ask it to, when my mouth starts moving, desperately dragging along any point of contact it can get with Kaoru’s lips. He smells like late nights on my sofa. He tastes like the horrible strawberry chewing gum I once used to determine which jacket belonged to which Hitachiin in high school. He kisses me like every little flirty comment he’s passed off as a joke is true. Like he loves me. Like he would be happy to be with me and no one else.

My arms wrap tightly around him. I have the strange fear that if I don’t he will fade away. This feels too good, too familiar. He wraps his arms around me, too, as if he’s just as desperate as I am.

I love him. I love him so much and I could love him until the day he dies. It feels so simple. It feels like I’ve been looking for something right under my nose. I love him. Of course I do. It’s Kaoru.

**Author's Note:**

> ohshc was the first anime I ever watched, but this is my first time writing fan fic for it. 
> 
> I really enjoyed it, though, I might do more!


End file.
